It's That Simple
by Madame Zephyrus
Summary: Twoshot. They were best friends. Simple, right? Never. But when has it ever been simple? GeorgeHermione Obviously AU & OOC. Please read warning inside.
1. Chapter Un

**WARNING:** PLEASE READ THIS! This fic makes mention of main character being gay. If that bothers you or you don't feel comfortable reading about it, LEAVE NOW. This isn't the fic for you. However it only mentions that the character is gay and that he might have a potential date. That's the extent of it. Now if you DO decide to read this and you become offended, DON'T, I repeat **DON'T** send me your flames because I have warned you and if you chose not to read this it's your own fault.

Now; this is an 'I'm-all-done-chemo' present for you all. ) So I hope you enjoy it. Oh, this this is also the longest piece I've written to date. Well by myself. So please review!

**Update:** I wanna thank slytherinsess for telling me the fic would be better broken down into chapters-so I made this a two-shot but I've changed nothing (just the way it's broken down).

**Disclaimer:** Hi, my name is Lady Rachel Lupin and I'm, oh God this is so hard. Um, hold on I need a moment. -blows nose loudly- Okay, I can do this. My name's Rachel and I'm an obsessive Harry Potter fanatic. OH GOD! Phew. I'm so glad I got that off my chest. I feet better now. -claps-

* * *

**It's That Simple**

-Hermione's POV-

We were best friends. It was seriously as simple as that.

It was inevitable really. I mean I spent enough time around him. We ran into each other constantly in school (for good and bad reasons), around the Burrow, and now we were living together; it just happened.

But no, everyone couldn't accept that, especially Ginny. She nearly drove me barmy with the third degree she put me under whenever we were together hanging out or out shopping or on a simple lunch date.

I suppose you couldn't blame her really. I mean he **was** one of her older brothers, and I **was** her best friend. But I was telling her the truth. At the time…

---------- **B**reakline to **B**ackStory ----------

George was sitting in one of the plush arm chairs him and Fred had moved to the corner of the common room for their own purposes, whatever they might have been. Fred was nowhere in sight and George was bent low over a sheet of parchment. Every so often he would tug slightly at a strand of hair in a frustrated manner.

I was sitting at one of the tables on the other side of the room Books surrounded me like the castle walls as I worked diligently on a potions essay that wasn't due until next Tuesday.

He let out a frustrated sigh and that's when my concentration finally broke and I had to take a break.

I noticed it was relatively late and most of my other fifth years had already gone to their respective dormitories for the night. I looked at my essay. _Damn, three more inches to go. I'll be up at least another hour. Mind as well…_ My thoughts broke off as I stood up and moved across the common room to take the seat Fred normally occupied.

"Homework?" I offered when George seemed to not even notice me sit down.

George jumped slightly and his hand flew to his heart. "Hermione, you gave me a fright."

My lips quirked into smile, "Little old bookworm Hermione Granger scared prankster prince George Weasley? No one's going to believe that one."

He eyed me for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not he was in trouble, and if not, why I was over talking to him in the first place. However he finally smiled. "Then how about we keep this our little secret?"

I laughed lightly and my smile grew wider. "Mm, we can't have our reputations being ruined now can we? We've worked to hard for them."

It was his turn to laugh. "That we have Princess. Though I think our respective reputations just came naturally to us."

_I never knew George was this insightful._ I voiced my thoughts to him.

He laughed again. "You mean out of the, I don't know, **handful** of times we've talked you never picked that up about me? I'm hurt." His smile lit up his eyes as he took the mickey out of me.

"Oh well excuse me Mr. Everyone-can-read-me-like-a-book, but it seems when ever you do talk you're trying to dig yourself out of the proverbial hole you and Fred dug yourselves into." It was my turn to tease the mickey out of him.

George waved a hand dismissively and I looked him strangely. _Since when does he do that? That was a little **too** feminine-what am I talking about? Who cares?_ Apparently he noticed my look and cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "Soo, did you need something or do you enjoy teasing my poor innocent soul mercilessly?"

I snorted into my hand and tired to turn it into a cough but failed miserably. "I just noticed you looked frustrated and wondered if it was homework or-" I left the sentence hanging there. "Plus I needed a break." I added.

He sighed. "Well part of it **was** homework." He admitted rather vaguely looking toward the dying fire.

"A girl?" I guessed looking at his facing, gauging his reaction to my question.

Ever so slightly he winced. "Er, well not exactly," he said just as vague as before.

"Listen," I said, "I know we aren't really good friends. Well, not even really friends," I changed my phrasing at his raised eyebrow, "But if something is bothering you, you should tell someone. What about Fred? Don't you two tell each other everything?" I crossed my legs and leaned back into the over stuffed chair.

George sighed again and he's shoulders slumped. He seemed to struggle for the right words. "We do tell each other everything. But this, I just don' think he'd understand. I don't think a lot of people would understand." He added the last sentence as an after thought and I wasn't sure if I was meant to hear it or not.

I tipped my head to the side and began to study him. He was staring at the fire again but I could tell that he wasn't really seeing it. His brown eyes had slight bags under them, like he wasn't getting enough sleep. His brow was furrowed, think lines creased his forehead. Also his fist rested under his chin in a very 'The Thinker' pose. He sat leaning forward in his arm chair with the arm with the hand under his chin on his right knee and his other arm resting in the triangle it made with his body. I had never seen him so serious in all my years of knowing him.

"You know," I said pulling his from his stupor, "you could always just, I don't know, tell me?" I suggested pointing out the obvious.

Deep brown eyes pierced my lighter cinnamon ones. "Could I?" He questioned me. "Could I really trust you with something that I'm not even sure of myself?"

"George, you know me better than that. I might be best friends with your little brother and sister but when have I ever proven to be untrustworthy?" I asked him quietly, slightly hurt.

He shook his shaggy red head and closed his eyes. "That came out wrong. It's just I'm not sure what I'm feeling right now and I just feel like if I tell something this it will be true."

The poor boy was talking him self in circles and I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him. His hand went up to tug at his hair again but I leaned towards him and gently pulled his hand away.

"Well how about you just tell me and we can see if I can offer any help." I asked just to see if he'd bite. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered what happened to the bright eyed boy I had been talking to ten minutes ago.

George eyed me dubiously. He seemed to take me in for a moment, as if he was trying to judge whether or not I was worth of knowing this powerful secret that was tearing him apart. I must have done something right. "You **have** to have and open mind." He said suddenly, almost like he was slightly scared perhaps.

"Wide open," I confirmed uncrossing my legs and leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, hoping that I wasn't looking overly eager to know something about George Weasley that not even his twin, his best friend, knew about him.

He seemed to go though an intense internal battle. A wide range of emotions crossed his face and I felt my heart go out to the red headed boy sitting in front of me. Suddenly, so I was almost startled and let out a squeak of surprise, his head ducked into his lap and hurried his head in his long freckled arms. "I think mmf mmp."

I heard the first two words but the last two were too muffled for me to decipher. I found his wrists and moved them away from his head and he looked up at me frightened. "George," I told him firmly, not letting go of his wrists, "Please just tell me. You are going to make your self sick drawing it out like this. Now, I distinctly heard 'I' and 'think'—you think what? Please tell me." Okay so I was practically begging at the end but for some reason, probably George's vulnerability, I was close to tears near the end.

Taking a deep breath he said, "Gay." It came out breathy and quiet, like a balloon being deflated. "I think I'm gay." He tugged his wrists out of my slackened grip and once again buried his head. The idea that he reminded me of an ostrich flitted through my brain but I shoot the thought from my head and turned my attention back to the clearly embarrassed and scared boy in front of me.

"Oh George!" I sighed after a moment of collecting my thoughts. I slowly moved my left hand had to stoke his auburn hair. "Is that really it?"

I felt him shake his head up and down under my hand.

"Oh George," was all I could say again as I pulled him into a hug. His face went straight into the crook of my neck and his arms encircled my waist tightly. My arms went around his neck and I continued to stroke his hair soothingly. That's when I felt a wet spot forming on my right shoulder. I shushed him quietly and rocked him slightly, like you would a small child who'd had a bad dream. He quickly contained himself but made no move to pull away.

"What, did you think that I'd hate you George? Throw things at you? Call you names?" I asked quietly. "Do you really think I'd do those things?"

"No of course not," he said, his voice thick with phlegm. He cleared his throat and went on. "I don't know what I thought. Maybe you'd just leave, tell everyone, the list goes on." He admitted softly.

"Because of something you're not even sure of yourself? I know most girls come off like well, tarts, I suppose I even do, but I do have a heart George."

"I guess I knew that." He continued to talk into my shoulder. "But sometimes you never know." I nodded my head in understanding. "So what do you honestly think?" He asked after a moment's hesitation.

My hand stilled and finally rested on the nape of his neck. "Hm, honestly—well first off it doesn't bother me in the least and I defiantly don't think any less of you as a man or as a human being in general." He had tense up in my arms at the beginning of my answer and I felt him relax back into my embrace as I paused. "But I'm also surprised. I mean I never would have guessed." I explained hastily.

"Yeah, well I couldn't have anyone becoming suspicious. I have a reputation you know." Now I could feel him smiling and I found myself doing the same.

"So—well, um--how long have you, er—thought this?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

George thought about it for a little while. I was almost sure he'd fallen asleep on me when he sucked in a breath to answer. "Actually I'm not even really sure. I mean I guess I kinda always thought that boys and girls were well, pretty or attractive I should say, but I thought that was normal, that everyone thought that. It must have been when I was in my fifth year that I **really** started noticing boys, in that way, but I still kept it to myself." He shrugged nonchalantly at the end but I knew this was difficult for him.

"It's been that long? That you've kept it a secret I mean?" I asked delicately, surprise evident in my voice.

"Mmhm, something like that maybe," He said not really committing to anything.

"Oh, and no one ever noticed that there was something bothering you? Or has this just become a problem as of recently?" I felt horrible that I had never noticed anything this big before.

"Well, I guess a little of both essentially. Something recently has resurfaced or maybe I've been slacking off on how well I've been hiding it." He was joking, I could tell by the tone of his voice. I smiled. He **was** a prankster after all.

"It must be my Inner Eye." I teased.

Finally he pulled away and I was met with slightly red rimmed eyes and a smile. "Thank you Hermione." He said finally after staring at me a few seconds. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Of course George," I hugged him once more briefly.

---------- **B**reakline of **P**resentStory ----------

See? Just like I said, it was simple as that. He told me his biggest darkest secret and that was that. Now here we are, four years older and four years wiser. Well, I'm wiser at least; George is still a prankster after all.

In four years we all find ourselves deeply changed. Harry, The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die had defeated Voldemort in our seventh year and we were able to finish our final year of schooling, albeit a little late.

After that everything seemed like a piece of cake. Harry and Ron are Aurors for the Ministry, although they aren't very busy anymore. I on the other hand felt my services were better need for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the head to be exact and youngest ever. But what can I say I've always been an overachiever.

Of course Fred and George still have their joke shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes'. They've even ventured into a branch in Hogsmade giving Zonko's a fun for their money, literally. Fred manages that one while George decided to stay in the hustle and bustle of number 93 Diagon Alley.

Wondering about George? Well he's never really 'come out of the proverbial closet' yet except for telling Fred (with the help of yours truly), and Ginny is still fully adamant on proving that we were secret lovers.

She told me she could 'practically hear the wedding bells now' when I told her over lunch that I'd be moving in with George in his flat over the shop.

"Trust me Gin, your brother is defiantly **not** my type." I told her as I tried not to snort into my glass of water on the day in question. I went on to explain that if I lived with George I had an easier commute to work, and that I wasn't ready to live all on my own yet.

Bellatrix had killed my parents' days after Voldemort fell to fulfill a personal vendetta she had against me for kill her husband Rudolph Lestrange. Hours later I found her, hiding away in the dirt that she was, and had her suffer a fate worse than death; the Dementor's Kiss. Now she sits in Azkaban, a vegetable until the day she finally dies in her own pool of freakish misery.

This however was a devastating blow to me emotionally so I had been living at the Burrow with Molly, Arthur and who ever else happened to be staying there with them at the time. Then George had asked me to move in with him a few weeks after Fred left to live over his shop in Hogsmade. He missed the company and said he couldn't 'think of anyone else I'd rather live with!' How could I have said no to that? So I moved in the next day and it's been like that for almost three and half years now.

"'Mione, you here?" I was pulled from my thoughts as the aforementioned red head walked, or rather, flounced into the living room of our flat. "I have big news!" he sing-songed.

I looked up from the tome I had been trying to concentrate on for the past hour. "Right here," I told him twirling a strand of hair I'd been absentmindedly wrapping around my pointer finger.

He hung up his magenta work robe on the hook next to the door and bounded over to the sofa to sit right in front of me, his grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat's. He took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves and tucked his legs to his chest. I raised a questioning eyebrow at him, telling him to get on with his story.

"Imetsomeonetoday." He said quickly hugging his knees tightly.

"You—what?" I asked, too shocked to ask anything more intelligent.

George began nodding his head enthusiastically. "Yeah, today in the shop! He's gorgeous Hermione really! And we're going out tomorrow!"

My reaction was still to gape at him like a fish out of its water bowl. "Tomorrow?" Was my next intelligent question.

"I know it **is** a bit sudden but it's okay! I already know him!" He told me, a slightly dreamy expression slitting across his freckled face.

"You already know him?" The sock was wearing off and I could form complete questions now.

Again George nodded happily. "Yes, you even know him. I mean he was a few years older than us in school. But you remember Oliver right? Oliver Wood?"

Hold the phone! Oliver 'Quidditch Star Keeper and Captain' Wood was gay?! Needless to say my newly found eloquence went right out the proverbial window. "Oliver?" I managed to squeak out.

"I know I couldn't believe it either! But he came in the shop today and he said 'we should really get together soon' and 'catch up.' Of course I didn't want to seem over eager so I just casually threw out that I was free tomorrow and he said it sounded 'perfect.' Mm, just like him," George relayed the events to me like a child on Christmas morning.

"Wait—he asked to catch up?" I asked, fearful that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. Oliver couldn't really be gay, could he?

"Well yes. Get together, catch up, go out, it's all the same really. It was the **way** he asked thought that I could tell what he really meant." His smile seemed to falter a bit during his explanation.

"Are you sure George because it sounded pretty platonic if you ask me?" I really hated to rain on his parade but I didn't want him to get his hopes up for nothing.

"What are you saying? I'm jumping to conclusions? Hm, is that is?" His smile was gone now and replaced by a deep frown.

"I-I just don't want to see you hurt again." I told him honestly, referring to his last potential 'boyfriend.'

George waved a hand impatiently. "That was totally different."

"Honey, he wasn't gay—and he was a prostitute for heaven's sake! He hit on me!" I tried to stay calm, I really did.

"Exactly my point, there's **no way** Oliver is a prostitute. I think I know my friends better than that 'Mione." A smug look graced his face at his last statement.

I however didn't miss what he was insinuating. "I **am** your friend George—I'm just looking out for you!"

"Did you ever stop and think that maybe I don't need a nanny anymore?" He asked his face hard and his tone slightly mocking.

"I'm certainly not trying to be your nanny!" I said defensively.

"Really, well what is it then; jealousy maybe?"

I knew he didn't really mean anything he was saying and that he was just angry, but that didn't stop it from hurting all the same. "Take that back," I told him darkly.

"I knew it." He said cockily. "Why cant' you ever just be happy for me?"

"Because I'm always right!" I finally exploded. "I've **always** been right about you so called 'dates.' And who's always been here for you to cry on **after **I was right? **ME!** Well not this time! You just go on your little 'date,' get your heart broken, again, and come crying back here. Alone!" With that I slammed the book on the coffee table shut and stomped down the hall toward my room.

"You're wrong!" He shouted to my back. "And I'll prove it to you tomorrow! You just wait and see!"

I whirled around. "FINE! But don't come crying to me!" I walked into my room and slammed the door, muttered a quick silencing charm on the room and proceeded to scream.

How this man infuriated me. Why couldn't he see that I was only looking out for him and his well-being?

_Is that the only reason?_ An inner voice asked.

"Of course it is." I answered myself aloud.

_I wouldn't be to sure of that if I were you—oh wait, I already am._ The voice replied snottily.

"What are you on about?"

_You do always rain on his parade. And bring up the worst things about his dates…_

"I do not rain! It's reality—I'm looking out for his well-being remember! And it's not the worst—just the truth!" Why I was arguing with myself, I'll never know.

_Yes but then why do you always try to talk him out of these 'dates' by saying 'someone you know will see you' yet you keep urging him to come out to his family and friends?_

"I—wait what?" I had only confused myself.

_Exactly, and tell me; why haven't _you_ gone out on a date since you've moved in with him? Don't you say you don't have the time either because lord knows you go out and see Ginny enough._

This left me thinking. Why haven't I? Well I really **haven't** had that much time. Plus I really haven't meet anyone and I can't think of anyone I'd want to even go out with. Then there's always work to be done…

_Stop trying to talk yourself out of it._ The voice chastised. _You know the real reason. I'm proof of that. Now, think. It _is_ what you do best after all._

"Fine, fine, shut up a minute then will you?" Yes I was still talking to myself. "Now okay, um more reasons as to why I'm raining on George's parade… Oh dear, I'm not jealous like he says am I?"

_Five points to Gryffindor!_ The voice answered me sarcastically.

I scoffed. "Me jealous of George? Oh honestly. Jealous of what exactly; his so called 'dates?' Please, I could find dates ten times better than the lot he's brought back."

_I never said it was him you were jealous of love._

"Well who else is there to be jealous of; certainly not his dates."

_Bingo! Five more point for Gryffindor._

"That's absolutely absurd. George is **gay**."

_Just because someone's gay doesn't just stop the opposite sex from finding them attractive. There's not on/off switch. That deserves a 'duh.'_

"Now you're implying that I **fancy** him?" I asked incredulously.

_If the wand sparks, use it._ The voice said mockingly.

"B-b-but—he's gay" My argument was weak and I knew it. "Besides we're best friends—I don't like him like that." I tired a new tactic.

_Mmhm, you just keep telling yourself that love and you will keep believing it._

"We're just friends." I told myself firmly. But as I began to get ready for bed I found myself becoming less and less convinced. "Just friends—that's all." I mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. With a spit and a rinse I made my way to the bed and turned it down. "We are friends." I climbed into bed, stifled a yawn to say, "Nox," and closed my eyes. "Friends," I mumbled to myself sleepily.

Right?

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter Deux

I awoke with a start. Something had jarred me from my peaceful slumber. Now I just had to figure out what.

BANG!

Hm, my silencing charm must have worn off in the middle of the night.

Well that answered that. From the sound of it George was opening and slamming closed every cupboard in the kitchen as hard as he could.

Very mature.

Rolling over I noticed my alarm clock; five-thirty in the bloody morning. I still had at least another half hour until I normally got up. I groaned and swung my legs over the side of the bed. There was no way I could go back to sleep now.

I made my way slowly to the loo, stretching as I padded across the carpet. After a quick shower I threw my hair up into a twist with a simple clip, put of some light make-up, made my way back into my bedroom, and flung open my closed doors. I picked out a simple black skirt that flared out around the knees, a light purple blouse, and a dark purple set of dress robes. Glancing in the full length mirror in the corner of my room one last time, and the clock; six-forty five I noted, and decided to make an appearance in the kitchen.

As I walked down the hallway I could still hear George banging around. _Honestly, what is he playing at?_ Suddenly I shook my head. _NO! I am not going to start talking to myself again._ I stopped walking. _Damn it._

Pausing at the entrance to the kitchen, I was about to say something George but then something stopped me. He was standing at the stove; yes we did cook the muggle way, with his back to me and from the smell of it making bacon. Suddenly I was noticing things I hadn't before. The way his hair curled slightly around his ears, how broad his shoulders were, and his long nimble fingers. I shook my head again to get my thoughts under control.

_Told you so, _I vaguely heard the voice from last night in the back of my head and I caught myself growling quietly.

Apparently not quietly enough because it cause George to turn around quickly—except it wasn't George! It was Fred. Don't ask how I knew. After living with George for so long you just **know**.

"Oh, hullo 'Mione. Sorry, I didn't wake you did I?" Fred asked innocently.

I sighed. It was only Fred

"Er, well yes actually, but only a half an hour, no worries." I told him nonchalantly as I went to hang my robe on the back of my chair. _But they both look the same from the back…_Came that nagging voice again.

"Then I'll make it up to you. Bacon?" he asked handing me a plate.

"Sure, but Fred, what are you doing in George's and my kitchen in the first place?" I inquired while nibbling on a piece of bacon.

"Oh, I didn't have any food at my place so I decided to pop over here. And I hadn't seen you guys in what? Two days? So I thought I was over due." He said grinning broadly as he turned back to the frying pan.

"For the love of Merlin Hermione will you stop with the rack—Oh, Fred. What are you doing here?" George came in the kitchen yelling until he realized who was making said racket.

"I'm stealing your bacon oh dear brother of mine." Fred said over his shoulder.

I noticed George eye me suspiciously, like maybe I had invited him over, but I only got up, got a glass of apple juice from the fridge, sat back down, opened the Daily Prophet and immersed myself in an article about a man who claimed to have broken the space time continuum and was actually from a week in the future.

"Bacon Gred?" Fred asked hold out a plate to him as well.

"Fine, whatever. You didn't make coffee did you?" George asked taking the plate and sitting on the opposite end of the table from me.

"What else are you supposed to drink in the morning?" He asked magicking a mug over to George; black. I however snorted behind my newspaper.

"I heard that missy." Fred said. "And it's true, every word of it. Coffee is a drink from Merlin himself."

"Or a muggle God," I laughed, rolling up the paper. Noticed George giving me the evil eye behind his mug, my evil side got the better of me. "So Fred, guess who has a hot little date tonight."

George's face changed instantly to a begging, pleading look. He also shook his head and mouthed, "No, please."

"Who?" Fred asked not even turning around to see our exchange.

"Oh, uh me," I said hastily.

"Really?" he asked turning around obviously highly amused at the thought. "And who may I ask is the poor boy you've lassoed into this fiasco? You didn't nick a love potion from the shop did you?"

"Shut up, I did not. His name is er, Oliver." I thought quickly.

"Surely not Oliver Wood?" Fred asked incredulously.

"No, no. He's um, muggle, Yean an old muggle friend of mine I used to know. He's in town and wanted to get together." Phew, could I lie or what?

"Oh, well, if you say so. Congratulations." He said turning back to the frying pan once more.

"Thanks." I said casting a wary glance in George's direction unwillingly.

"Honestly," he mouthed. "Oliver? Was that the best you could come up with?"

"Hey! I was put on the spot! And I just saved you tail so shove it." I hissed at him angrily, luckily Fred didn't hear. "Well," I said at a normal volume as I stood up, grabbed my dress robe, and stuck my hands through the sleeves, "I must dash. I'm sure I'll see you later Fred. Have fun tonight George." I added sweetly as I quickly flew out the door and made a swift exit.

One the other side of the door I chuckled lightly. _Let him explain himself out of that one._ I made my way down the steps rapidly and stopped at the bottom of them. Okay, so I felt a little bad for how I left him as my mind wandered to the conversation I'd had with myself last night and what I'd noticed this morning. With that I made a rash decision. Instead of going straight into the shop and into Diagon Alley, I turned left into the shipping room.

Quickly I found a spare bit of parchment and a quill and penned a letter to my other best friend, even if she did drive me barmy. I knew if anyone could help me it would be her.

'_Gin-_

_Meet me for lunch? Much to discuss. Apologies for the short notice._

_All my love,_

_Hermione'_

I rolled up the letter and coaxed an owl down from its perch and tied the letter hastily to its leg. "Ginny Weasley please," I told the owl as I unlatched the window and the bird took flight. I would get to the bottom of this whether I liked it of not.

----------- **B**reakline to **L**aterStory ----------

Around ten-thirty that morning I finally received my reply. Brushing some of my reports aside I opened the letter as fast as my finger would let me. I skimmed the letter and smiled.

''_Mione-_

_Lunch sounds smashing. Much to discuss? I'm riveted. Leaky Cauldron at noon?_

_Gin'_

I penned back immediately.

'_Gin-_

_Fabulous, and you'll see extremely soon._

_Hermione'_

Glancing at the clock on my desk I groaned; Ten-thirty four. This was going to be a long morning. Gathering and stacking my reports in an orderly manner, I dove back into work.

----------- **B**reakline to **L**aterStory ----------

I hurried down one of the streets in Diagon Alley, every once in a while having to dodge a witch or wizard caring large bulky shopping bags.

My watch read eleven-fifty but if I knew Ginny, she'd already be there waiting impatiently to see what had caused me to call this impromptu lunch date.

Pulling open the large wooden door with the sign 'The Leaky Cauldron' swinging happily above it in the breeze, I made my way into the busy room. I noticed flaming red hair as soon as my eyes adjusted to the slightly dim lights. I pushed my way through a crowd of chatty witches to a booth near the back.

"Ginny!" I cried happily when I was close enough for her to hear me. "It's been too long really."

The red head jumped up and gave me a tight hug. "By Merlin it has! We should set up a date every week to get together from now on so we can catch up."

We sat down at the booth and Ginny immediately launched into conversation. "So what do we have much to discuss about? This has been **killing** me all morning! I've been racking my brain for anything-" Here she suddenly gasped, "Oh my God, he didn't really propose did he?"

"Ginny, doll, calm down, this doesn't even really have anything to do with George." And it didn't—in a way.

Just then a petite blonde witch sashayed up to the table and handed us two baskets of fish and chips and two butterbeers. "Enjoy." She said with an American twang and a bright smile.

"Foreigners," Ginny muttered, slightly bemused. "Sorry, I went ahead and ordered when I got here because I knew there would be a wait. Fish and chips are okay right?" Ginny asked already cutting into her fish.

"Of course, now who I really want to discuss is Oliver Wood." I said nonchalantly pouring some catsup on my chips.

Ginny practically squealed and promptly dropped her fork with a clatter on the table. "No way! You're not going out with him are you?!"

"Heaven's no." I replied laughing at her antics. _George is._ I added silently. "I just um, heard something very interesting about him yesterday and I wanted to see what you knew about it."

She looked put out but answered none the less. "Okay, shoot."

"Okay. Well, did you know he's gay?" I asked lowering my voice so not to be over heard, not that we would.

It was Ginny's turn to laugh hysterically. "Oh God," she was still laughing and she had to take a swig of butterbeer to calm down.

"Did I miss the joke?" I asked.

"Gay? You **can't** be seriously." She stared at my questioning face. "You're serious aren't you?"

"Well, I mean, I didn't hear it from a very reliable source-" I tried explaining lamely.

"Obviously," Ginny said rolling her eyes. "Wait, you mean you don't know?" She asked. At the negative shake of my head she went on. "Dear Merlin I thought everyone knew. Oliver's been engaged to Angelina Johnson for almost a year now. They're getting married in the winter."

To put it mildly I was shocked. Even to say I was floored would have been an understatement. "He—what?"

"Oh yeah—it was announced in the paper ages ago. It's supposed to be huge, I mean, they **are **both colossal Quidditch stars. Yeah, I remember them going out even during Hogwarts and then he popped the question a few years later-" She rambled on a bit while I was lost in my own thoughts.

_Bloody hell! What am I going to tell George? I can't believe he didn't know! Usually he's the first to hear about these kinds of things. Oh no! He's going to be heart broken! I have to find him and tell him before he makes a complete fool out of himself!_

I snapped back to reality and heart that Ginny was still talking. "-simply amazing. They've picked out a gorgeous church. Her dress should she equally as stunning-" I cut her off.

"I'm so sorry Gin but I'm going to have to cut our date a little short. I just remember I'm expecting in a meeting with some officials from Sweden about a new breed of kneazles in about five minutes. I'll owl you later, promise! Send my best to Neville." I lay down eleven sickles for the meal and dashed out of the pub thinking that I had to get to George's shop as fast as I could.

---------- **B**reakline to **C**hangeOfScene ----------

Skidding to a halt in front of the store I bent over and put my hands on m knees to try and catch my breath. _Maybe I should work out more…_Pushing that thought aside I opened the door and walked inside slowly.

Poking my head around the people who were enjoying the many oddities in the shop, I didn't notice George anywhere. I did however notice Verity working behind the cash register so I made my way to the opposite side of the store.

"Hullo Verity—I was er, looking for George. Is he in the back?"

Verity smiled, she had decided to stay in Diagon Alley as well because she already had a flat down the street. "'Lo Hermione, no actually I'm not sure where he is today. He opened up this morning and then when I came he said that he was going to take the day off. He seemed extremely excited though—well, more so than usual."

"Oh," I said slightly put out. "He didn't say where he'd be or anything did he?"

"No, I don't think so." She replied tapping her chin. Just then a customer came up behind me so I said a quick good-bye and headed to the back of the story and toward the 'Employees Only' door.

I went up the same stairs I had that morning to go and check the flat to see if maybe George was there primping or something for his 'date.'

The word twisted my gut into knots and a wave of guilt washed over me. My words of 'I'm always right!' bounced around in my head. For once in my life I **didn't** want to be right.

Once in the flat it was apparent that he wasn't here either. Just in cast though, I walked through the kitchen and down the hallway to George's room.

Nothing.

I walked back out of the room, into the kitchen, and just stood there.

"Now, if I were George, where would I go?" I looked around the kitchen until my eyes hit the dirty frying pan in the sink, then it hit me.

"Of course!"

---------- **B**reakline to **C**hangeOfScene ----------

I left the flat and shop as quickly as I could and apparated to one of the only places I could think of George to go to.

Hogsmade. More specifically: Fred's shop.

Entering the almost identical shop, I heard the bell jingle above my head and call Fred's attention.

"'Mione!" He greeted me ecstatically. "And to what do I owe this great pleasure too?"

"Actually I'm looking for your brother." I told him peering around the store seeing if he was going to pop up from behind one of the rows and rows of colourful shelves.

"Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, or Ronald? You're going to have to be a tad more specific there my dear." Fred replied good-naturedly.

"George of course," I retorted.

"Hm, might I suggest, oh I don't know, maybe his shop?"

"Don't patronize me Fredrick Weasley. Of course I looked there and Verity said he's taken the whole day off!" I told him exasperatedly.

"The whole day you say? Well, he's not here, though I can't for the life of me figure out why he'd take the day off…" Fred began as he scratched his head.

I sighed and began wringing my hands together. "And you can't think of anywhere else he'd go?"

Fred's expression turned to that of thoughtful. "Honestly, no. Usually you two are attached to the hip, bloody annoyance really." He said with a teasing smile.

"Oh ha, ha," I said sarcastically as I checked my watch. "Bullocks," I cursed under my breath. "I'm ten minutes late from my lunch break. Well if you see George—just tell him I need to see him—as soon as possible!"

He nodded. "Sure can do." And with that I left another shop and apparated back to work.

---------- **B**reakline to **C**hangeOfScene ----------

After that, work seemed to go on forever so when I arrived back to a still empty flat I nearly screamed in aggravation.

"Men!" I said huffily to the sofa as if it were the cause of all my problems. "Well—he'll have to come back to get ready won't he?" I tried reasoning with myself. "I'll just wait her for him." So I turned and flopped on the blue and cream striped sofa, crossed my arms, and waited.

There were only two flaws with my otherwise brilliant plan. The first one became increasingly apparent within the first fifteen minuets; waiting in a quiet flat equals too much time to think.

_Where in the name of Merlin could he be?_ I thought to myself as I began wringing my hands together worriedly again. _Wait, why am I getting so worked up? I mean sure he's my best friend and I've been ther for him through everything, and I mean _everything. _But it's because we're just that right? Best friends. Not because of his deep laugh, or his crooked smile, or the sheepish look he gets on his face when I catch him doing something he shouldn't—No! What am I doing? Okay, reasons that I _don't_ like George! Well one, duh, he's gay. Two, he, well I mean he always—and when he, um._

I was drawing a blank. I honestly couldn't think of a number two.

"This is madness!" I screeched in frustration. "I mean for Merlin's sake! The boy. Is. Gay. And there's no way in bloody hell he likes me." I added quietly.

I leaded forward and threw my head in my lap, losing my clip in the process. _I did _not_ just admit that._ I tried convincing myself.

I didn't work.

I loved George.

**I **loved George Weasley!

_And the broad's finally caught on!_ Cheered the voice from last night.

"Oh hush." I mumbled into my arms shaking my head.

_Please. It took you long enough to admit. I think I have the right to gloat. Even for a bit._

I sighed. "Damn it."

This is around when the second flaw in my plan became blatantly obvious to me. George wasn't coming back to the flat.

The clock on the wall I insisted on having, practically screamed seven-fifty five at me. True I had no clue what time their little 'date' was, but knowing George he would already be there, waiting, just like his sister.

"I need a drink." I said wearily to myself, but I was tired from my wild goose chase this afternoon so I settled for turning on my side and stretching myself along the sofa. _Just to rest my eyes for a bit._

If felt as though my eyes had only been shut for a millisecond when I was jarred awake by a loud bang. _Déjà vu._ I thought sluggishly to myself as I rubbed blearily at my eyes. "George? That you?" I was able to ask after clearing my throat a few times. Squinting into the dim light of the hallway I could almost make out his tall lanky frame.

"'Mione?" he asked quietly, meekly really, from the doorway.

"Yes George?" I asked sitting up trying to make out his face which was downcast.

He sniffed. "Oh 'Mione, it was horrible!"

"Come'ere George," I told him softly.

Crossing the room in record time, he immediately curled up into a ball at the other end of the sofa and began sniffling and hiccupping.

I could feel my heart breaking into a million pieces and I sighed.

He sucked in a shaky breath. "Please 'Mione, just please don't say 'I told you so.'"

I shook my head despondently. "I wouldn't dream of it George."

He stayed quiet for a moment, only sniffling on occasion then all of the sudden he blurts out, "Married Hermione! He's getting **married**!

"Mmhm," was all I could come up with.

"To a girl!"

"That's generally how it works darling." I told him sadly.

"But I didn't know, and I **always** know these kinds of things!" George cried out desperately.

"Oh honey, you can't be right all of the time you know." Immediately I regretted my choice of words.

"I can't but you can right?" he laughed bitterly.

"Trust me George," I said wistfully, "I'm no where near as perfect or right as you think."

He sat up and cocked his head to the side. "You have a bad night too?"

"Mm, ever since last night," I admitted to the pillow I had been hugging in my lap.

George was silent for a full minute. "Me too." He said finally.

I took a deep breath and decided to just put it out there. "George—I think—I should move out."

His face, which had previously been staring adamantly at the floor, snapped up the meet mine. "W-what? I mean—why?"

Taking a moment to collect my thoughts I hugged the pillow tighter to my chest. "I—well, maybe it's just time you know? And well, recently I've realized some things, you've helped me realize some things, and just maybe it's a good time to look into getting my own place." I couldn't look into his face, I just couldn't.

"Realized some things? What have I helped you realize 'Mione?" He asked, hurt evident in his voice. "Listen if this is about last night, I'm sorry. You know that I don't mean the things I say when I'm angry, it just sort of spills out."

"I know George. It's just, something I've realized about myself really—and being here with you. Oh I don't know! I don't **want **to leave, but I'm afraid it might be for the better." Tears were slipping out of the corners of my eyes by now but I made no move to wipe them away.

He moved closer to me and gathered me up in his arms. "What aren't you telling me 'Mione? We're best friends, we tell each other everything. What makes this time any different?"

"Because this time it's about you," I confessed to his chest. He had been stroking my hair but then his hand stilled.

"Me?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah," I gave him a watery chuckle. "So who do you tell, when there's no one **to** tell?"

"You tell the story but you make it your 'friend' instead. You know, 'I have this friend, Julie, and she…' you see what I mean? Why don't you try that?" He suggested jokingly.

"Fine," I told him and sighed. _Well if worse comes to worse; I just _will_ have to move out and we'll still be just friends. _"So I have this friend, Emma, and she has her best friend, Jamie. And she's just realized that she's fallen in love with him." The silence in the flat was deafening as I held my breath.

George continued to hold me but said nothing. I was about to pull away and tell him to forget it when his voice surprised me. "And Jamie doesn't love her back?"

My breath caught in my throat. _What?_ I wasn't sure how to answer. "Well she doesn't um, know. I think she just-" I was cut off abruptly by George's finger curling under my chin and his lips meeting mine. That's when all rational thought went right out the proverbial window.

I wasn't thinking about the fact that the boy in front of me was supposedly gay; no I was thinking about how nice it felt to finally taste him. He was slow and cautious at first, like he wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but quickly he became more confident and deepened the kiss. I moved my hands to tangle in his hair and that's when it hit me. _George. Gay. What was I doing?!_ Startled, I pulled away.

"George—what-" I searched his face for the answer.

"I'm—I don't know." George said racking a hand through his hair. "I've never—Hermione you're, okay I'm getting ahead of myself." He took a deep breath and settled his gaze on me. "I don't think that your feelings are exactly one sided here 'Mione. For weeks now, maybe months, I've been feeling, well unsettled around you. It was like I was seeing you in a new light almost. I noticed things about you that I hadn't before like the line of freckles across your nose and cheeks, and when you get lost in thought you always twirl that one strand of hair. Things like that. I tried convincing myself that we were just friends and that maybe I was just lonely so that's probably why I threw myself into liking Oliver so much, to hide how much I really wanted to be with you."

For the second time that day I was stunned into silence. He still gazed at me expectedly and I knew I needed to answer him. "Are you—but what about, well, being gay?"

He scrunched his brow in thought. "I'm not really sure. I suppose maybe I've been bi this whole time and apparently I favor girls now." He smiled shyly at the end.

My heart soared. "So you mean—we could try this?" I found his answer in another searing kiss.

We were best friends turned lovers. It was as that simple.

**Finito.**


End file.
